


We'll Be Your Family

by youngghosts



Series: We'll Be Your Family [1]
Category: Agent Carter (TV), Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Gifted (TV 2017)
Genre: Asexual Natasha Romanov, F/F, F/M, M/M, Philinda - Freeform, adoption au, aro/ace pietro, dad offs, did i use too many tags? probably, family au, mama may, non whitewashed maximoff twins, philindaisy, sibling dynamics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-14
Updated: 2018-04-14
Packaged: 2019-04-22 17:17:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14313456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youngghosts/pseuds/youngghosts
Summary: "Skye hated everything about this place. She hated the nuns. She hated the chapel. She hated it all.She hated that she was part of this place now. That once she finally left, no matter how many years passed, a part of her would remain here forever. No matter how hard she tried, she could never get those blood stains out of the tile. And boy, did the nuns make her try."Skye is twelve years old and is counting down the days until she can get out.Phil and Melinda May-Coulson have decided that it's time they welcome another kid to the family.





	We'll Be Your Family

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MillieMay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MillieMay/gifts).



> I originally started this fic a little over a year ago as a birthday gift to my friend, Liv. I then forgot to update it for a whole year.
> 
> When I went to look back on what I wrote to finally pick it back up again, I realized that I hated it. So here it is, a year later, and drastically updated.
> 
> Happy Birthday Liv!!! (Take 2)

Skye hated everything about this place. She hated the nuns. She hated the chapel. She hated it all. 

She kicked her dangling feet away from the bench.  _ She hated this floor.  _ It didn't match the rest of the orphanage, she noticed that early on. It was damaged- covered in chips and stains and scratches.  _ Just like you. _

 

She hated that she was part of this place now. That once she finally left, no matter how many years passed, a part of her would remain here forever. No matter how hard she tried, she could never get those blood stains out of the tile. And boy, did the nuns make her  _ try.  _

 

Most of all, above everything, Skye really hated Roman. He was the reason why she was in this mess. She would pay attention to the way the nuns talk about him. It’s funny how Roman Catholics really gush over kids with any vaguely religious name, no matter how sociopathic they might be.

 

_(“Listen, Skye,” one of the younger kids told her when she returned a couple of foster homes ago,_ “ _Roman’s a pedestal kid now.” She remembers laughing bitterly at that._ _Of course he’s a pedestal kid. Any kid who picks on the others always becomes one.)_

__

One of the nuns -Sister Catherine- glared at her from outside the office door. Skye knew why she was there, of course. It was to ‘prevent her from listening in.’ Not that it was needed; she could hear Roman blaming her from all the way down the hall. God, she hated him. 

 

_ “It’s all her fault! Mary Sue always starts everything, and everyone knows it. Why do you think families always send her back?” _ Skye resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Sister Catherine was watching like a hawk, and she knew that any wrong move would get her into trouble, no matter how small. 

 

She could hear Roman fake crying. 

 

Fake crying never worked in her favor. 

The next two weeks were going to be hell. 

 

__________

 

Melinda looked up from the stack of files in front of her over to Phil. He seemed tired, but not nearly as tired as he would be despite the circumstances. 

 

“How much coffee have you had?” She asks, peeling away from the mess on the table to walk over to him. Five hours. They'd been going over these files for  _ five hours _ . Saint Agnes, apparently, had over five divisions in this ‘branch’ alone. 

She didn't know how their system worked, and she didn't want to know. What she did know, however, is that the number of kids in their specific system in the 10-15 age range that needed homes was outrageous. 

 

“It’s like they don't even try,” Phil said. She watched him take another sip of his drink. Last she counted it was his fourth -maybe fifth- cup. 

 

She pulled the mug out of his hands, “I know. I knew Marcos said it was bad, but I never expected this bad on a scale this big.” He nodded, still staring at the file in front of him. Melinda could read him better than anyone, and they both knew that. She knew exactly what this was. It’s happened many times before, but this was the first time in a long while. 

 

Slowly, she closed the file in front of him. His eyes didn't move as she pulled it towards her across the counter. “Is it ever enough?” He asked. The question wasn't directed towards her. It wasn't even directed towards him. She replied anyways. “What do you mean?”

 

She knew what he meant. Sometimes she's thought of it, too. It's kind of hard not to. She thinks of the stacks of files scattered around their kitchen. Tons of kids who fit their criteria. Tons of kids who need a good home. Tons of kids who they won’t be able to help. 

 

She thinks of their kids. She thinks of how they used to be just names and photos in a file. She thinks of all the people who passed over them too.  _ The problem children.  _

 

She thinks of all of this. She knows it’s what he’s thinking of too. 

 

“Is it,” he cleared his throat, “what we do, is it ever enough?” He made a weak motion to the room. She knows exactly what he means. He knew she would. 

 

“Honestly?” He looked up from the counter to her. “No. It’s never enough.” He sucked in a breath and she continued on, “We can't help them all, Phil. We can't give them all the life they deserve.” She looked up to the frames on the wall, “But just because we can't help them all doesn't mean that what we do doesn't matter. Think about them. Think about the twins. Think about Marcos, and Clarice, Think about Nat and Mack. What we do will never be enough, but it's enough to them.”

 

__________

 

“Psst, hey, Nat, you up?” Nat looked up from her phone to see Clarice’s head popping into the room. She was wondering when that was going to happen, honestly. 

 

“When aren't I up,” she responded, sitting up against the window to wave her older sister in. Clarice plopped onto the bed without second thought. They were quiet for a moment, listening to their parents faded voices from downstairs. 

 

Nat sunk into the familiarity of the moment. The last time this happened, her and Clarice were in these exact spots. Of course, they were younger, and Marcos and the twins were here, but still. At least there was more bed space this time. 

 

“I miss Marcos.” Clarice's voice broke the silence between them. This, too, was familiar. She felt the same after Wanda and Pietro left. Like some part of you was missing. Nat knew that had to be worse for Clarice- she and Marcos came in together. 

 

“I miss him too.” If Marcos were here, he would whip out a pack of sodas, a ridiculous amount of snacks, and talk about the mess of the next holiday/party that they’d have, or about a project that him and his friends were going to do, or about anything, really. If Marcos was here, he’d make them feel light. Now all Nat felt was anxiety. 

 

__________

 

A crow broke them out of their work trance. An actual crow. Phil looked up from his notes to her, “You know, on good days I can forget that Ed has chickens.” Melinda couldn’t help but laugh at that. 

 

Jarvis’ rooster, while not always being the best alarm clock, was at least consistent. She didn't even have to look at the clock to know what time it was.  _ 4:35 am on the dot. _ Every time. Every morning. 

 

“We should head up to bed. Get a couple of hours of sleep in and pick back up in the morning.” He punctuated his sentence with a yawn, stretching his arms back behind him. Mel nodded. A few hours of sleep didn't sound so bad. 

 

They worked together to stack the files into a system that made sense to them. “We should probably move these into the office.” Phil spoke up, voicing what she was thinking. She nodded again, suppressing a yawn of her own. She glanced at the clock, “We can do that in the morning.”

 

Phil opened his mouth to argue, when a yawn cut him off. “Yeah, the morning sounds nice.”

 

__

 

She followed Phil up the stairs, stifling another yawn. They’d be working their way through the files for hours. Most of the kids had gaps of information that was either mishandled or thrown out. It made her sick to her stomach. The entire system needed investigation. They needed a change. She knew that. She’s known that since the start.

 

They walked past Clarice’s bedroom when she noticed something. Her bedroom door was open. Well, cracked open. Clarice couldn't sleep with an open door even to this day. It gave her too much anxiety. Melinda took a look inside as they passed by.  _ Empty bed.  _ She stopped. 

 

Phil noticed. “What's wrong,” he asked, somewhat between a whisper and just mouthing the words. She was about to reply when she saw Mack’s bedroom door.  _ Closed _ . That wasn't right either. 

 

She held up her hand. Phil knew what it meant from the old days.  _ Silence.  _ She opened up his door and was met with the sight of an empty bed. Ever since Mack moved in, he could never sleep with a closed door. Never. 

 

All the was left was Natasha. She crept up to the closed door while Phil remained where he was. She already could tell something was off. The house was quiet. Way too quiet. Natasha always stayed up late, her insomnia and anxiety keeping her from sleep until she was too exhausted to stay up any longer. The quiet didn't make any sense. 

 

She cracked open the door, preparing for the worst, when she saw the three of her children, fast asleep, their phones scattered between them on the bed. Nat was curled up in the corner while Mack an Clarice took up most of her bed, sprawled out with limbs everywhere. 

 

She let out a sigh of relief as she closed the door behind her, walking over to Phil again. He raised an eyebrow but she waved it off. That was another thing they could talk about tomorrow. For now, Melinda just wanted to go to sleep knowing that all of her children were safe. 

 

She wonders if someday she’ll be able to live without the underlying fear of what may come. 

 

She figures that's also something she can worry about tomorrow.

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter is also dedicated to Stinis, who accidentally inspired me to start writing this again.


End file.
